"SHE LOOKED INTO THE WIDE HALL BELOW."
There came a faint sound from below, so faint as only to make the stillness more noticeable. The wind moaned round the house, but fitfully, as if a storm were gathering at a distance. Honor half sat up in bed, straining her ear to listen. There was not a stir in the house, yet she felt convinced that someone shared her vigil. Fearing her mother might be ill, and yet not wishing to disturb her if she slept, she drew herself noiselessly out of bed, and groped for her dressing-gown without striking a light. On her way she looked into the wide hall below. A faint glimmer illumined it, and her eyes soon became accustomed to the dim light. Someone stood facing the clock. Click! the doors flew open, and out sprang the cuckoo.
One, two, three. The doors closed again. There was a faint sound, which might have been a box of matches falling on the tiled floor. It was followed by a smothered exclamation. The figure stole away in the direction of the morning-room, where she and her mother had lately been sitting. Honor remained in the dark motionless, wondering what she had better do. All the servants were women, and to awaken them meant rousing her mother, and that she dare not do.
She gathered her dressing-gown closely round her and crept noiselessly from stair to stair, quivering all over as they creaked under her bare feet, but never pausing until she stood at the half-open door of the morning-room and looked in. What she saw froze her into immovability. A film swam before her eyes. It was Jim! The prodigal had returned, but why in this way? What could it mean? She rubbed her eyes incredulously. There was another man standing near the window, but it was upon Jim her glance was fixed with reluctant, fascinated horror.
"THE LIGHT FELL FULL UPON HER."
Jim leaned against the mantelpiece, his face was white and drawn, and in his eyes was reproduced some of the incredulity of Honor's.
"I can't, I tell you," he spoke in a low voice, that yet came clearly to the listener. "I promised, as it was to be the last time, but I break my word—I must get out of this, I tell you. That clock! My God! what I'd give not to feel such a scoundrel!"
"Clock? What are you raving about?" said the other. "What's wrong with the clock? They must strike, I suppose! Come on, let's get out of this. What's given you such a scare? You might have seen a ghost."
"So I have, the place is full of them. I must go; the very air stifles me." He stood upright and moved towards the door.